Two young Irishmen in a Canadian regiment were going into the trenches
for the first time, and their captain promised them five shillings each
for every German they killed.
Pat lay down to rest, while Mick performed the duty of watching. Pat had
not lain long when he was awakened by Mick shouting:
“They’re comin’! They’re comin’!”
“Who’s comin’?” shouts Pat.
“The Germans,” replies Mick.
“How many are there?”
“About fifty thousand.”
“Begorra,” shouts Pat, jumping up and grabbing his rifle, “our fortune’s
made!”
* * * * *
Patrick had called on his Betsy and she gave him a handsome helping of
her special make of apple pie. Patrick was loud in its praise.
“I tried a new way,” said Betsy, beaming. “I put a few gooseberries in to
flavor it.”
“Begorra!” cried Patrick. “If a few gooseberries give so good a flavor
to an apple pie, what a darlint of an apple pie it would be made o’
gooseberries entoirely!”
* * * * *